


He wasn't drunk

by TheRogueLibrarian



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Diagnoses, F/M, House Being House, House is still a bastard, M/M, Sex, Slash, Smut, Vicodin, Wilson being Wilson, comedy?, secret romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRogueLibrarian/pseuds/TheRogueLibrarian
Summary: They slept together and now they need to decide what to do. House is still a bastard, Wilson is still Wilson, but its different now.





	He wasn't drunk

 

He was drunk that night. He had to have been drunk that night. It wouldn't have happened sober. House was always drunk, well always on drugs anyway, but he was drunk that night. But, if he was drunk would he have remembered so clearly? Would he have remembered his touch? Longed for it. Longed for it now. Did House feel the same? He can't really tell with House sleeping but maybe he did... maybe he does.

 

He doesn't remember being drunk. He just... he remembers everything except the drunk part. But, he was drunk, wasn't he? If he was drunk he didn't know what he was doing. If he was drunk he didn't really make the first move. He didn't really put his hand on his thigh and House didn't look at him like that. He didn't look at him like Wilson was right and wrong and... He didn't kiss him if he was drunk. Or at least he didn't mean to.

 

If he was drunk then it didn't count. It didn't count when their clothes suddenly disappeared and House didn't say 'I've wanted this forever' and Wilson didn't say 'So have I'. He didn't say he'd been waiting ever since they met. He didn't say he hated Stacy and every girl he'd ever loved. He didn't fuck him... at least it didn't count if he was drunk.

 

But, he doesn't have a hangover and he doesn't feel dreadful... he feels alive. And, say he was drunk, say he was drunk out of his mind, he isn't drunk now. And, if he isn't drunk now why is he so happy to have a naked House next to him. Why does it make him shudder every time his warm thigh brushes against him. Why does he wish he could never leave? Wilson lies back down. Its too early to be thinking about this.

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

House opens his eyes. The minute he does he regrets it. Light floods in painfully though the window and then to him. He'd had one too many vicodin last night. Although he always has one too many vicodin. But, today feels different. Like last night he did something and he's not sure what. It must have been big to feel this strange. Then he sees him, lying next to him sound asleep, a naked Wilson.

 

House almost wants to make a joke. Something like 'the naked Wilson is a rare beast that only comes out every twenty years'. House almost isn't shocked. They're two men over thirty living together with no girlfriends or even casual sex buddies. This was bound to happen eventually. Even if he isn't shocked he still isn't cool with the idea. But, things happen, nothing you can do about that.

 

House stands up, making sure to leave the blanket draped across Wilson. Sure, Wilson is naked but to House he isn't _totally_ naked. His leg hurts. His leg always hurts but this morning it hurts more. He reaches for his vicodin bottle on his night-stand. He quickly swallows two. After a few minutes he doesn't feel as bad. He feels bad but... not as bad.

 

He reaches around the room for some clothes. House has been naked in front of Wilson before, they share an apartment, but never when they'd fucked the night before. He pulls on some jeans and a presumptuous white top. He looks around for his blazer. Its probably out in the hall. He limps. Where is his cane?

 

House looks around for a while half-heartedly until he finds his cane leaned up against the couch and his blazer scrunched up on the floor. He decides not to wake Wilson, give him the same courtesy he gives his other lovers. But, Winston isn't a lover. He's... He's... He's a one night stand best friend, a possible future fuck buddy. House takes a deep breath in. He hates when things get complicated.

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

Chase is sitting quite content reading his copy of 'Medicine of the Month'. Then House walks in. He can't seem to decipher his mood. Honestly the only way Chase can describe it is that House looks confused. His kind instincts get the better of him. He knows House will just blow him off with a snidey remark but Chase can't help but feel sorry for him.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

But, instead of a snidey remark he hears nothing. House is saying nothing. Did he hear him? Was he okay? This absence of a snidey remark has also confused Cameron and Foreman. This also wasn't helped by House seeming to pace around the room. House is also early. What's wrong with him today? Cameron gets up and puts her hand on his shoulder,

 

“House? Are you okay?”

 

After this touch of affection House looks even more bewildered. He says,

 

“Get off and find a patient.”

 

The three are looking through medical files but House can't seem to care less. He just walks out of the room not even dismissing them. Should they call Cuddy?

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

House stands alone on the balcony that connects his and Wilson's offices. Why are they even friends? House treats Wilson like dirt time and time again and yet they still stay friends. Did Wilson just want to jump him this whole time? Did House want to jump Wilson? Was jumping necessary... Why is House saying 'jumping' this much at this time of day, even if it is in his thoughts?

 

He should have stayed at the flat and talked to Wilson. He should have sorted this out. He should have sorted something out. But, no, he had to be his usual self and leave Wilson alone in that bed. What will Wilson think when he wakes up? He'll think 'classic House, leaving without a word the morning after we fucked'.

 

House is still finding it hard to believe they fucked. Him and Wilson... Sure, there'd been rumours around the hospital every since they became friends, and House may have started most of them, but they were just friends. Were they? Sure, before that night they'd never kissed but there was always that tension between them.

 

Had they really fucked? House can remember it clearly but at the same time can't help think he's just watching a movie of someone else's life. _The movie of a century. House and Wilson, doctors from another world. The modern day Romeo and Jerkface. Wilson continues to woo House day in day out and yet for twenty years nothing happens. Then House and him fuck one night and..._ House should not be writing the movies.

 

House just stares for a while. He isn't quite sure what he's staring at because there isn't much to look at but he stares anyway. Its as if he's waiting... for Wilson. And like a fairytale his wish comes true. A rugged, barely awake Wilson is running out onto the balcony. House doesn't know what to say. All he can muster is a weak,

 

“Sorry for leaving.”

 

Wilson looks him straight in the eye, he grasps his head in his hands and says,

 

“I'm not drunk.”

 

Whatever the hell that means House doesn't care because a second later Wilson is kissing him. And, he is kissing Wilson back. Wilson's lips are so warm pressed against his, why have they waited this long? They go on like that for another ten seconds before they pull away. They're panting. House says,

 

“So, I guess that means you don't regret it.”

 

Wilson just shakes his head and steps away slowly back to his office.

 

“See you later.”

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

Chase isn't sure what he just witnessed. The last thing he remembers is Cameron telling him to keep an eye on House while she and Foreman go get Cuddy. Then... Then... Wilson came out onto the balcony and... kissed House! He then stepped away and now House is just leaning out across the balcony like a lovesick puppy.

 

Chase takes a seat. Today has been a hell of a day. Chase isn't sure what to think, there had always been rumours about Wilson and House's relationship but this was too much. He goes back to reading his magazine, like everything was back to the way it used to be. Chase has nothing against gay people or couples, he himself had fallen in love with a boy called Chad in a different life, but House was different. House hired hookers on a weekly basis? Did he?

 

The only hooker Chase had ever seen was a Latino girl who then turned out to be marrying House for a green-card. Was she a hooker? Chase hadn't really been paying much attention that day. But, House dated Stacy. He could of course be bisexual but... Wilson was straight. Wasn't he? Everything was getting very confusing and Chase was starting to doubt anything he knew about the two, about anyone! Was his name really Chase?

 

Just as Chase was having an identity crisis Cuddy walked in with Cameron and Foreman by her side.

 

“Where is he?”

 

She says, her words full of dread. Chase points mutely to the balcony afraid if he opens his mouth he'll spill the beans. He sees her talk to him for a few moments and then she turns around and comes back to the office. She says three things,

 

“He's not depressed, he's not on too many drugs, he can practice medicine.”

 

Then she leaves gruffly walking down the hall. Cameron nudges Chase,

 

“Observe anything interesting?”

 

Chase shakes his head. He feels to much loyalty towards House to tell anyone, and even if they were kissing on the balcony it doesn't mean they want everyone to know they were kissing on the balcony. Maybe it was a one time thing? Maybe they were practising for girls? Maybe Chase is an idiot and needs to admit he knows nothing about the human condition?

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

Wilson had gone the distance. He had woken up alone and he had ran to work and he had kissed House. He had been certain. He had been decisive. And, House kissed him back... Wilson sits humming at his desk. He had felt it. Pure hot sober desire had passed through them, House may not have been completely sober but he never is.

 

Wilson is organising some papers for a cancer patient. All his patients are cancer patients. He sometimes tires from it all. All the death that surrounds his work, but, whenever things get too bad House always takes him out for a drink and acts like less of a jerk. Wilson is just so excited. He kissed House, they fucked the night before, they'll probably fuck again tonight. He can hardly breathe.

 

Wilson had always thought he was straight. Through every wife and every divorce he'd thought it was just the wrong person. Now, it may turn out that it was just the wrong gender. His thoughts get interrupted by the turning of a door knob. House is entering through the balcony. Wilson jumps out of his seat. House says,

  
“I think our patient has cancer. A tumour near the heart to be specific.”

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“They can't heal, trouble breathing and severe joint pain.”

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

As soon as the business talk is over they heavily embrace. Because of House's leg he can't exactly run to Wilson but when they're together he holds him close. They fall down bonelessly onto Wilson's couch. House has sat there a thousand times before but never for these purposes. They feel each other, everything awkward and new. They don't know where they can put their hands, what is allowed? The passion from the kiss on the balcony has dissipated and Wilson can tell House is over-thinking all of this.

 

Wilson doesn't want him to over-think this. He doesn't want House to over-think him. He wants House to hold him and kiss him and touch him everywhere. He knows House is worried. He's House. And he also knows he will have to make the first move, make it so that they're not just kissing, make it so they're making out. Wilson pushes House down forcefully onto the couch, Wilson comfortably nestled between House's legs as he passionately kisses him. House takes the hint and they proceed to make out for a while. Their bodies hot and warm, their hands grabbing and caressing and exploring. They've known each other so long but never known each other like this.

 

Wilson kisses a neat line down House's neck. He lets out a soft moan. Then they stop, dislocate from each other and proceed to smooth their clothes and hair. House walks over and gives Wilson a soft kiss on the cheek goodbye. Wilson gives House a warm smile, gently strokes his stubbled cheek and says,

 

“Let me know if it isn't cancer.”

 

House smiles and says,

 

“I wouldn't dare not.”

 

He then proceeds to walk back out onto the balcony. Wilson sits back down, his heartbeat still loud and quick. What a day.

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

House sits calmly at his desk. He's throwing his ball from one hand into the other. _Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud._ Slow and concise. It helps him think. What if it isn't cancer? House suddenly stands up. It can't be cancer. It doesn't make any sense. Wasn't the patient on some sort of... diet? It has to be scurvy. He runs... Well doesn't run. He limps as fast as he can into the surgery, and just in time no less as this poor girl is about the be sliced open.

 

“Its scurvy.”

 

All the doctors just stop. A nurse mumbles,

 

“Why does he always have his epiphanies just as we're about to treat people?”

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

Foreman can tell something is going on. First, House. What the hell is wrong with him? Sure, he's on vicodin, he's a cripple but he was oblivious to everyone today and then suddenly he was all giddy and love sick. And, when he, Cuddy and Cameron got back Chase was clearly upset about something. What had happened that had cheered House up and frightened Chase? And, last but not least Wilson. This morning he was late and looked like a wreck. Is he doing heroine or something? The House and Wilson thing is probably connected, and even if it isn't, Wilson usually knows the answers.

 

What surprises Foreman the most is the fact that people haven't caught on to what's been bothering him. He's been sleeping with Cuddy! And, no one noticed. And no one cares. Not even Cuddy for that matter. He takes a breath. Maybe everyone was just having a crazy day. He slumps his shoulders and slowly walks back to his car. He needs a holiday.

 

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

All three of them stand in the elevator. House and Wilson know why they feel awkward but they have no clue why Chase is acting the way he is. He keeps trying to start conversations. He keeps saying random things. He's shuffling his feet, glancing away. Is Chase doing drugs? House decides to let it go for now. No need to analyse Chase's behaviour when he's about to fuck Wilson.

 

The elevator lands on the ground floor. Chase quickly steps out saying,

 

“Goodnight you guys have a nice night I think I'll... never mind. Bye.”

 

House and Wilson walk out side by side. House says,

 

“What the fuck is wrong with him?”

 

“Cameron maybe. Didn't they have a thing a while back?”

 

“Who even knows or cares any more?”

 

They reach the parking lot. They pause. Are they taking Wilson's car or House's bike? What would it mean? Would this be something about dominance? Does House even have a second helmet?

 

“Are we?”

 

“We can take the car. It just makes more sense.”

 

So, they both tentatively step towards the car. They're nervous because its the car, then the drive, then the apartment then... gulp. Then comes the fucking. The drive home is awkward. They don't know what to say. They don't know how to act. All they do know is that the music isn't great and they both want to switch it but they don't want to make any sudden moves.

 

They reach the outside of House's building. They didn't even have to talk about where they were going. They knew they were going here. They step out. They walk up. They stand outside the door. After about a minute of silence Wilson starts to speak,

 

“You know we don't have to do this. We could just be friends. We could forget tha...”

 

He's interrupted by House's lips on his own. He's pushed back against the door. He feels House's warm body pressing firmly against his own. He heard the thud of the door against his back. He hears the creaking of the hinges. He sees House reach for the key in his pocket. He sees him jam it smoothly into the lock.

 

He feels the door move behind him. The two collapse into House's apartment. Them falling to the floor, rolling for dominance. Groping at each others bodies. Excited. Like last time didn't really count. How they didn't know what they wanted. How they didn't know they had wanted it for so long. Wilson is on top, he pulls away his shirt and throws it. House has lost a shoe somehow and his cane is somewhere near the door.

 

Their moans are full of need as they kiss each other. House quickly pulls off his shirt. His leg won't appreciate this roughness in the morning but he doesn't care. He needs Wilson now. Wilson moans,

 

“I want to fuck you so much.”

 

House tries to think of a sarcastic comeback but can only murmur 'Wilson'. He is lost in desire.

 

“Bedroom.”

 

They get up, seemingly joined at the hips and mouths and travel to the bedroom. They collapse in a tangled heap. They rut against each other, erections touching mercilessly. Wilson kissed a neat line down his neck and House moaned. Then for a moment they separate as they unbuckle their pants. They stand just above the bed staring at each other.

 

This isn't like last time at all. Last time they had been on the couch. Wilson had put a hand on House's knee. He had turned to him. He had placed a hand on his cheek. Then they quickly fucked. Today there is so much more need. They need to solidify that it wasn't a one time thing. That they won't just go back to being friends.

 

And just as quickly they had come apart they had come together again, now completely naked. They fall bonelessly onto the bed. They kiss. They feel. They moan. And then there is House bending over and Wilson kissing his neck as he aligns himself. And then he thrusts hard into House, sliding in smoothly. House lets out a moan of pain, but after a few moments it returns to needy pleasure.

 

Wilson feels amazing. He feels so good. He can't help it. He simply must go faster. So he thrusts over and over going deeper and deeper into House and House is loving it. He is loving it. He wishes it could never end but he can't keep up this pace forever. House abruptly comes and then Wilson soon after, always waiting for his lovers to be satisfied before he is.

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

House and Wilson sit next to each other on the couch. Hair muffled, clothes crumpled. Wilson's hand is on House's knee. House can't help but feel very awkward just sitting there. Wilson breaks the silence,

 

“Shouldn't we talk about this?”

 

“Nope. Never... We will never talk about this.”

 

House turns on the TV. Wilson's hand is still on his knee.

 

“If you don't want to talk we don't have to talk.”

 

After a while House gets up and says,

 

“Night.”

 

He disappears to his room. House probably needs some space. Its not everyday you fuck your only friend. Wilson was about to drive back to his apartment but realises House wouldn't have a way to get into work. So, he falls down onto the couch to sleep. Was this a mistake? Had House not wanted to? But, House kissed him. He said they could just be friends and House had kissed him.

 

Wilson does not sleep easy tonight. He wishes House were laying beside him. But, you can't always get what you want.

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

House wakes up, rubbing his eyelids. He is tired, and grumpy and... sore. He is sore in an unmentionable place. Was it a mistake? Wilson is the only friend he has, what if they fought, who would he turn to?

 

House grumbles to himself strange mutterings, he is too tired to think properly. No, no, that's not it. He can't focus because of the pain that is suddenly throbbing from his mangled leg. He reaches to his night-stand. There is nothing there. He gets up shakily and casually looks around, his bottle is on the floor. It must have gotten moved in the raucous last night.

 

He takes two then steadies himself. He quickly showers and changes then goes out to leave. Wilson lies sleeping peacefully on his couch. He looks beautiful today. He is quite a beautiful man. House can see it clearly, he has a certain elegance to his face that makes you want to trust him. He shakes these thoughts away.

 

He gets up to leave but stops at the door. _Fuck_ he thinks. Wilson had drove them. House was trapped, he had no way to get to work. He... Wilson had foiled his plans. Was he more cunning than he let on? Now House had to talk to him, maybe he would threaten work if not. But, what did House care? He was late constantly, what difference would this make? He planned to have no patients for a while anyway.

 

House goes to the kitchen and sits down. Bloody Wilson and his bloody kindness and pity and bloody beautiful eyes... House is not going to become his new wife. He knows what Wilson does to his wives. Wilson pampers them and loves them until they're dependant on him, until they don't need help any more, until they're better... And then he leaves them. He gets bored of them. He resents them and eventually hates them. House is not going to become his new wife.

 

He sits and thinks. Maybe he could call one of his cronies and ask them to pick him up. He doesn't _need_ Wilson to drive him. But, then they would ask things like 'Why aren't you going with Wilson?' 'Where is your motorbike?' 'Why should I help you?' House decides to sit and wait for the questioning. He can live with that.

 

…............................................................................................................................................................

 

Wilson wakes up. Looks around him. For a moment he doesn't know where he is, but he soon remembers. For a moment he doesn't remember why he's here, but soon he does. He feels his heart flutter, he and House... again. He needs to talk to him. Last night House walked off, he left Wilson on the couch. What was he thinking?

 

Wilson gets up, stretches his back, yawns. He walks over to House's room, expecting him to be there. He isn't. Where is he? How did he get to work? Is he... Wilson walks back to see House sitting in the kitchen staring at the wall. Wilson walks over, sits next to him. House doesn't see him? Wilson coughs, quite obviously making him aware of his presence. House still doesn't _see_ him.

 

He puts a hand on House's cheek. House looks over to him, his dull blue eyes sparkling for a moment. Wilson says,

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

House instantly pulls away. What was he thinking? Of course he doesn't, even if he did he wouldn't come right out and say it. Wilson is an idiot. House says,

 

“We need to get to work. Drive me.”

 

Then he gets up and walks over to the door. Wilson is about to argue that he needed a shower but then he remembers he doesn't have any new clothes to change in to. He follows him, hoping that when he gets to work no one will notice, no one will assume, and if they assume they won't assume the truth.

 

 

 


End file.
